


A Perfectly Ordinary Life

by lionessvalenti



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dudley Dursley Has a Magical Child, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 01:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13424088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: Dudley Dursley's life is exactly as he'd like it: ordinary.





	A Perfectly Ordinary Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aponyforyourthroney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aponyforyourthroney/gifts).



Dudley Dursley lived a perfectly ordinary life. He had a job, and a wife, and two young children, a daughter and a son. His family visited his parents at Christmas, his wife's parents at Easter, and every year at the end of July, an owl showed up at his kitchen window, so he could give it drink of water and a birthday card for his cousin that he otherwise never spoke of. 

It was ordinary and simple, until one day his daughter Violet, two days after her ninth birthday, sent all the cushions from the sofa swirling around the room in a very fluffy tornado. The cushions knocked over a vase, and flipped over several family portraits, but otherwise no harm was done, except for the sinking realization Dudley now held.

"It might have been a nasty draft," said Maura Dursley that night after the wreckage had been cleaned up. "We should have the windows all resealed, and check the chimney. We haven't had it checked since last winter, it could be.... What's that look? Dudley?"

Dudley was simply staring at her helplessly. He couldn't let his wife, a lovely woman he'd been married to for eleven years, think this was something it wasn't. He remembered the day the letter arrived, and the many letters that came after it. If Violet was one of... _them_ , they'd want to have her, and he'd send her there. He'd do it. But he couldn't let Maura stay in the dark about it.

He stood abruptly and went for the kitchen. "I think you should have a brandy," he said.

"I don't need a brandy," Maura called after him, but she didn't protest when Dudley returned with the bottle and two glasses. "What's all this, then?"

"D'you remember my cousin?" Dudley asked after settling down next to her on the recently reassembled sofa. 

"Harry, isn't it?" Maura asked. She took a sip of her brandy, and then held the glass between both of her hands. Her dark brown fringe hung just at her eyebrows, making her brown eyes look larger in contrast. She was confused, and maybe even a bit worried. "Yes, of course. He always sends gifts for the children at Christmas and I think I met him -- he was at our wedding, wasn't he? With his wife, and they had a child."

Dudley nodded. "There's something about him, about my family, I've never told you."

Maura took another sip and then set her glass aside, missing the ceramic coaster with flowers painted upon it. "Dudley, are you ill? Is there some kind of... genetic disease?"

At that, Dudley laughed, a loud, panicked sort of sound. "You could say that. Harry -- his wife, his family -- they're all... different. They're magic. They're witches."

She laughed. "You're having me on."

"I'm not. What Violet did, that was... I'd seen Harry do those sorts of things when we were young. We didn't talk about. We ignored it. Harry went away to school, to learn magic, and we treated him like a freak. I was afraid of him, so I..." Dudley felt his face, already ruddy with emotion, go hot with shame. He'd been a bully as a child, and he knew it. And he'd treated Harry the worst of it. "There's a line of magic in my family, on my mother's side. My aunt, she was a witch, and so was Harry. And now I think Violet has it. Maybe Ned, too, I don't know. We'll have to watch him."

Maura stared at her husband. "You're serious. You think your cousin is a witch and our daughter is a witch, too."

"I do."

She straightened her shoulders, and while she didn't appear to believe him one bit, she said, "I believe we'll need a bit more evidence, don't you think?"

* * *

Dudley wasn't sure how he could summon an owl. The one that came for Harry's birthday card (a tradition Dudley started at university and never quite gave up, in an attempt to make up for eighteen years of neglected birthdays) just showed up, like it knew that it was time for Dudley to send his card. The Potters didn't have a telephone, and Dudley had no idea what their home address was. This was an emergency, a magical emergency, and he had no way of contacting the only people he knew who could help.

Owls, Dudley had learned over the years, were very smart. Less than two days after he had revealed the dark secret of his family to Maura, an owl showed up on his kitchen windowsill. He'd never seen it before, but it waited patiently while he scribbled a note.

"I don't know how you knew I needed you, but..." Dudley felt quite stupid talking to an owl like it was a person, but it seemed like the owl had an understanding. Was it a magic owl, or were all owls predisposed to this sort of knowledge? "Thank you," he said, attaching the letter to its leg and sending it off.

"Daddy, were you talking to an owl?"

Dudley turned and Violet, who had taken to wearing her purple birthday dress every day, was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

"I was," he said. She'd seen the owl. She'd seen him talking to it. What was the sense in telling her otherwise?

"But it's daytime." Of course, a child wasn't bothered by the _talking to an owl_ bit, but the nature of an owl flying during the day.

"Owls are strange," Dudley replied, and then knelt to give his oldest a hug. During the writing of his letter, he realized that telling Harry about Violet's incident was easy. The struggle would be, when the time came, telling his parents that their granddaughter was a witch. He could recall their fear and anger like it was yesterday, along with his own ignorance and cruelty. Harry'd put up with it because he had no other choice, with no adult to stand up for him.

Clutching Violet a bit tighter before she wriggled away from him with a giggle, Dudley knew that he would not stand the same fate for his daughter.

The owl returned with a message of no immediate help. It said only, in Harry's familiar untidy scrawl, _Could I come round Saturday for afternoon tea?_ , and Dudley replied, yes, of course, and sent the owl on its way.

Dudley hadn't seen Harry in eleven years, though he knew his cousin now had three children, having received birth announcements for them each. Their correspondence had been completely owl based, given their very different lives. Harry did magic things, and Dudley did non-magic things. Other than growing up in the same house, they have nothing in common.

Until now.

"I still think it's ridiculous," Maura said when Dudley told her that Harry was coming round for tea, but she put a roasting chicken on the shopping list for sandwiches. To impress, she'd probably make her Battenberg cake, flavored with strawberry and vanilla.

By the time Saturday came, Maura had forbade Dudley from the kitchen, lest he snack on all of her tea offerings, of which there were many. The more nervous Maura was, the more she cooked, even to the point of excess, a habit Dudley didn't mind one bit. While Dudley's appetite wasn't as large as it had been when he was a child (as now there was the consequence of heartburn), he still loved to eat. At least there would be plenty of leftovers for the weekend.

When the doorbell rang, Violet flew to the door, screaming, "I'll get it, I'll get it!", and Dudley wasn't fast enough to catch her. When he arrived to the door, it was open, and there was Harry, looking eleven years older than the last time Dudley had seen him, with a boy around Violet's age.

"Harry," Dudley said, extending his hand, and Harry gave it a shake.

"It's good to see you," Harry said.

Dudley smiled. "Come in." He made the round of introductions, and Maura warmly greeted Harry into their home, appearing far less stressed than the Christmas dinner's worth of food in their kitchen would imply. "And Violet just turned nine, and Ned there is five."

"And a half!" Ned added indignantly. 

"And a half," Dudley confirmed with a smile.

"This is Albus," Harry said, resting his hand on his son's shoulder. "My second son. He'll be nine later this year. Albus, this my cousin, Dudley."

"Hullo, cousin Dudley," Albus said automatically, while he eyed the potential playmate of Violet.

"Was the trip far?" Maura asked as she guided Harry and Albus into the parlor with Violet and Ned at her heels. "I imagine you're quite hungry."

"It wasn't bad," Harry said, while Albus exclaimed, "We came by Portkey!"

Maura started. "Is that a sort of car?"

"It was a broken lamp," Albus cheerfully replied before Harry covered Albus' mouth with his hand.

"One thing at a time," Harry said, and they all sat down to sandwiches and tea.

Afternoon tea was actually quite nice, catching up, and telling stories. Dudley was grateful that Harry never mentioned a single tale from their growing up together.

The children became restless after the cake, and while Dudley sent Ned upstairs to play, Violet and Albus remained, though now sitting on the floor together with coloring books. Albus kept prodding the pictures with his fingers, like it would make something happen.

"Tell me what happened," Harry said, settling back with his teacup in one hand.

"It was just a draft," Maura said.

"All the cushions on that sofa you're sitting on right now flew up in the air for a good thirty seconds before they all fell down," Dudley said. "Maura wanted to wash Violet's party dress, the one she's wearing now, as she'd been wearing it for a few days since her birthday. Violet didn't want to change clothes, they had a spat about it. It wasn't the worst fight I'd ever seen. No screaming or bawling. Violet was just upset."

"Thirty seconds is pretty long for a drafty window," Harry said. He set his cup on the table and knelt down on the floor next to Violet. "Have you ever done anything like that before? Made stuff happen?"

"The flowers," Violet said, not looking up from the princess she was coloring.

"What flowers?"

With a heavy sigh, she set down her crayon and looked up at Harry. "Mummy's flowers in the garden were dying. She said it was the end of the season, but they were so pretty. I was going to miss them."

Harry smiled. "You brought the flowers back."

Violet nodded. "They were all pretty for days after. And one time at school a boy was pulling on my braids, and I told him to stop, but he wouldn't. So one time when he reached for them, my braid poked him in the eye. He cried and told the teacher, but she didn't believe that my hair could poke him without me turning."

Harry laughed, and then coughed, like he shouldn't be approving of such things in front of his son, but he still looked pretty amused by the whole thing.

Dudley looked over at Maura, who had gone a bit pale.

"I just thought I'd added a bit of fertilizer," she whispered, and Dudley took her hand.

"We should talk in private," he said, and Harry nodded.

Harry sent the children outside to play, and then the three of them went into the kitchen. Harry sat down across from Dudley and Maura at the table, and he slid a book across to them. Dudley picked it up and looked at the title, _My Child is Magic, What Do I Do Now? An Introductory Guide for Muggle Parents of Wizards and Witches_.

"They give this to a lot of parents when their Muggle-born children get accepted into Hogwarts," Harry said. "It starts with the signs that Muggles may miss when they try to rationalize magic, but you recognized it immediately, didn't you?"

Dudley nodded. "So, she is like you, then?"

"I think so, but I can't know for certain. I have some friends I can contact at Hogwarts who can look up the registry for me, but..." Harry shrugged and smiled a bit sheepishly. "I'd say you've got a witch for a daughter."

"This is ridiculous. There's no such thing as magic or witches or, or, Muggles." Maura motioned to the book. "We'd know if there were."

"The British magic community keeps to itself," Harry said. "We have very strict laws about secrecy, but there are times like these that those rules are... bent." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wand. 

Dudley recognized it immediately, and even though he knew Harry was not going to harm them, there was still that reflexive tightness of fear in his stomach.

Harry lifted his wand mumbled something that Dudley couldn't understand, or even comprehend, and each of their teacups were suddenly filled to the brim.

Maura grabbed the cup and stared at the contents. "How did you do that?" She took a slow, experimental sip. "Ow! It's hot!"

"No sense filling a cup with cold tea," Harry replied. He smiled kindly. "It's magic. And in a couple of years, Violet will learn how to control hers."

Dudley nodded, but then gazed seriously across the table at his cousin. "And Ned? Is Ned... like you?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. There's really no telling at this point. My mother was a witch, and your mother wasn't, but I knew a pair of Muggle-born boys at school, brothers, who were both wizards." He trailed off for a few moments, a deep sadness suddenly lining his face at the mention of these boys, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "I know Aunt Petunia's lack of magic is what drove a wedge between her and my mother. If Ned isn't a wizard, I'd hate to see that happen to him and Violet."

Again, Dudley nodded. Violet and Ned were far apart enough in age that they never really competed for anything, but if Violet suddenly had extraordinary powers that Ned could never possess, he could see it spiraling very quickly.

"Speaking of," Harry said carefully, "have you thought about what you're going to tell Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon?"

Dudley had wrestled with that very subject, tossing and turning through several sleepless nights. He knew how they felt about magic, and how they felt about Harry, and even how they felt about him being friendly with Harry, but they loved and spoiled their grandchildren with showers of gifts to the point that Maura had to tell them to back off (a thing Dudley could have never managed to do).

"I'll wait as long as I can to tell them," Dudley said, "but how we treated you won't happen again. If they can't love Violet for who she is, and at least treat her kindly and no different than they have, then they don't have to be a part of this family. We could spend Christmas with your family." He added the last bit quite hopefully. He hadn't intended to say it, but he did.

Harry's face broke out into a grin. "I'd like that a lot, actually. I've got so much to teach you both about the wizarding world. You'll have to know, for Violet's sake. Tell me, what do you know about Quidditch?"

Dudley took a sip of his still quite hot, magic tea, and smiled.

* * *

_Two years later..._

Dudley thanked the owl, gave it a drink of water, and sent it on its way before opening the letter. It was blotchy, due to Violet's inexperience with a quill, and Dudley thought it might be prudent to send her some nice pens, even if just for letter writing.

She recounted the boat ride across the lake leading up to Hogwarts, and how she'd been sorted into Hufflepuff, whatever that meant. She wrote of her first day of classes, and how she'd changed a matchstick into a needle ("On only my third try!") and had already read an entire book on magical flora.

Just as he finished the letter, setting it aside for Maura to read when she came home, he saw a ceramic ashtray that had been given to him one Christmas from Aunt Marge, go zooming through the kitchen from the direction of the living room. It smashed against the wall and fell to the ground in pieces.

It wasn't much of a loss, as neither Dudley nor Maura smoked, but it _had_ been a gift and Aunt Marge was five years gone, now.

"Ned, I know you did that on purpose!" Dudley shouted, making his way into the next room. He wasn't actually angry, but it was the principle of the matter. "You can't go around making ashtrays fly round the house just because you're too young for Hogwarts!"

The sound of Ned giggling filled the room, followed by the stomping of feet upstairs.

Dudley headed up the stairs after Ned to get him to clean up his mess, but as he did, he had to smile to himself. Witches and wizards welcome and giggling in a Dursley home. Who would have ever thought?


End file.
